


The Five Times Leonard McCoy Didn't Walk in on Jim and Spock (and the one time he did)

by zquinto



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 5+1, First Time, Fluff, M/M, because i'm that cheesy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1367479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zquinto/pseuds/zquinto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The progression of Spock and Jim's relationship, as seen by the times Leonard McCoy used CMO's override to enter their rooms.<br/>And, by "walk in on Jim and Spock", I mean <i>walk in on Jim and Spock.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five Times Leonard McCoy Didn't Walk in on Jim and Spock (and the one time he did)

**Author's Note:**

> I know absolutely nothing about planets, allergies, CMO's override, or Vulcan biology. Unfortunately, I haven't been introduced into any of these things in depth. Forgive me.

CMO's override.

It's only logical for the top medical officer to obtain a code to enter any quarters at any given time, Spock has stated, due to the legitimate fact that multiple crew members face serious injury while inhabiting their personal rooms, and thus it would be irrational to not present the head doctor with a way to enter any lodgings when a disaster should occur. Whether it be a unfortunately fatal trip on a piece of furniture, or some old fashioned and rare occurrence of any panic related disease, similar to a heart attack, or possibly a bizarre mishap such as choking on one's personal replicator's food, having a CMO override proved necessary.

Jim did not have a problem with the fact that the chief medical officer was presented with an override code for all rooms, but the fact that his CMO happened to be Leonard McCoy, who was certainly pitted against him in everything. 

These are the five times Leonard McCoy used CMO's override on Jim and Spock, and the one time he regretted it.

 

\- - - -

 

**1\. Debriefing**

McCoy was running through the hallways, receiving questioning looks from the crewmen ambling past, equipping a hypospray in his hand and a discontent look on his face. Half an hour ago did Jim leave sickbay, and that damn rascal had it lucky. He had managed to slip past the ensign who was supposed to be keeping a close eye on the captain, whom McCoy had set out because he was fully acquainted with Jim's inability to stay in sickbay when the CMO wasn't threatening to stab him with hypos and other equally threatening devices. He felt ridiculous sprinting down the _Enterprise,_ and he muttered a dissatisfied complaint involving the fact that he couldn't just beam into the captain's quarters this instance. That would've been a lot more practical than having to run through the halls like he was back in high school and late for his second period class.

The captain's quarters was situated snuggly between the First Officer's room and the Chief Engineer's quarters, the first of which were connected by a small bathroom, though it was larger than that of the average crewman. The captain, quite obviously, received the largest lodgings out of the entire crew, and Jim filled it up with books. McCoy couldn't figure out for the life of him why he would fill up a perfectly good room with useless, tedious leather bound papers when he could simply read the same exact text off a separate device, though Jim ignored him. McCoy, if he were captain or were presented with an equally large room, would've used all those shelves for prized bourbon and pictures of Jo, or maybe relics from the planets he was forced to beam down to. The only thing Jim ever gained from visiting planets was either injuries, sexual pleasure, or new allergies. All of which gave McCoy a reason to stab him with a hypo.

The override code for the CMO was too many numbers for him to repeat, which was initially hard to remember, yet after using on multiple occasions he had begun to say it fluidly. He was quietly glad that the doors and walls were completely soundproof, not only due to the fact that he did not wish to hear _intimate activities_ but also that he had the element of surprise on his side. Nothing, not even a good bottle of bourbon, was better than seeing Jim Kirk's shocked and pained face when being stabbed with a hypo. However, Jim was not alone.

Standing in the center of Jim's quarters was Spock, who immediately straightened his spine upon noticing the doctor, hands crossed pristinely behind his back. Jim was seated in the chair at his dining table, legs sprawled apart casually which completely objected Spock's aura. The Vulcan regarded him with a tilt of the head. "Good evening, doctor."

"Hey, Bones," Jim said a beat afterwards, grinning loosely and ignoring the hypo in his hand. "What's got you using CMO's override to get into my room?"

"You," McCoy replied, though it wasn't exactly a reply, considering that he did not answer the question. He wiggled a finger at his captain, and abruptly stabbed the needle into his neck. It elicited a loud shout and a groan immediately following, which was accompanied by a dirty look from the receiver and an eyebrow raise from the bystander.

"Doctor, I believe that hyposprays need not be administered in such a violent manner, and all medical professionals must be aware - "

"I know how to correctly administer hypos, Spock," McCoy cut in, "I just _decide_ to stab Jim as hard as I can."

Spock responded to this with a simple eyebrow raise. "I heard that, you know," Jim complained, loudly, to McCoy. He was greeted with an eye roll.

"Alright, Jim." the doctor said, turning on his heel gracefully and tucking the hypo into his oversized pocket. "I'm headin' out now. I'll leave ya two to do… whatever you do. Don't get too crazy." He winked at Jim, who simply flashed his James T. Kirk Smirk™. Spock was left dumbfounded in his Vulcan stupor.

"Debriefing," Jim shouted out the door, chuckling, and settled back into his seat. Spock continued to ~~drone~~  talk intelligently about the mechanics of the recent planet and how communications went, how many crewmen were injured, other stuff that neither McCoy or Jim would care about.

 

\- - - - 

 

**2** **. Chess**

It was midway into the first year of their five year mission, the incident involving Nero and John Harrison long behind the crew and a sort of positive domesticity settling over the ship. A peaceful aura of relaxation, though still laced with exploration and intent towards upcoming missions. At the time, an amazing feat that deserved to be in the record books had occurred - Jim Kirk, captain of the USS Enterprise, had managed to keep himself out of injury of three consecutive away missions. The bridge crew obtained a long running bet on the captain's tendency towards injury, and Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu was winning, talking all bets placed after the fourth away mission in a row wherein Jim was socked in the thigh and given a light scratch across the left side of his face following his attempted move made on the high princess. McCoy did allow himself a quiet moment of what he called "I Told You So", considering that no sensical class M planet obtained natives who carried around three different knives of separate parts of their body, supposedly for self defense. Unfortunately, the doctor was devastatingly unable to wrangle his captain into sickbay, considering that two younger crewmen had become injured far more fatally throughout the course of the mission upon the empress whipping out her double bladed sword and easily socking multiple members of Jim's crew. However, upon McCoy's completion of two completely successful surgeries, he ensured himself that the captain was not about to make a simple get away. 

Upon searching through sixteen of the twenty nine recreation rooms, the mess hall, the Bridge, and four debriefing rooms, McCoy finally set route towards the captain's quarters. He was purely exhausted by this point, despite all of his hard working years on the basketball team in his youth, he found that he could not move another inch. Retrieving Jim from wherever place he had located himself had always been a chore, and possibly running through half the ship until resorting to the captain's dormitory may have not been the most logical course of action, yet either way the CMO's life would have been made unfathomably easier if his dear captain learned how to stay put and follow directions presented toward him. However, some things never change.

Standing before Jim's quarters and entering the code he had no doubt memorized, McCoy panted and, upon hearing the monotone ring of the doorway sliding away before him was met with a peculiar sight. The table that Jim had situated in the corner of his quarters, used for completing dull paperwork or sharing a bourbon while uncomfortably close to one another, had been dragged from its dejected place and settled contently next to the door that lead into the connecting bathroom, hanging before the picture of Jim himself following his official promotion to captain, accompanied by his crew. Seated on either end of the table was the owner of the room and his clad in blue first officer, minutely situated on the cushioned chair, back still ramrod as ever. Between the two was a chess board, though lacking average characteristics similar to the ones McCoy had at home in Georgia - rather, it towered multiple levels, possibly three, allowing a multitude of areas to place separate pieces. Jim fiddled with three of the claimed black pieces that were of the board, whilst Spock looked up from plotting his next route to capture his captain's white piece.

"Good evening, doctor," Spock stated politely, raising his eyebrow half a centimeter and looking more pleasant than usual.

"Why haven't you sent Jim to Sickbay?" McCoy replied, avoiding the question and glaring at both of them. He looked slightly less menacing while lacking a hypospray, though his angered disposition assisted slightly.

"I believed that the captain was, how you would phrase it, 'dandy'." An eyebrow raised another centimeter questioningly as Jim grinned and giggled into his coffee that was situated next to the chess board.

"He got beat up on his face and socked in the thigh way too close to his dick. He's not as 'fine' as he looks," McCoy retorted, bending on his knee and pulling out the small medical tricorder to scan over the entirety of his captain's torso.

"I attempted to heal him while you were preoccupied with other patients, doctor, and used my prior knowledge, albeit little, on the medical treatment of flesh wounds."

Jim did appear overall fine, a satisfied demeanor settling over him as his two friends bickered, casually sipping on his heated drink and easily waiting for his colleague to complete his turn in their game. The gash on his head had discontinued bleeding, leaving only a red mark running from the edge of his eyebrow to the side of his lip. He shifted his leg easily, implying that his thigh was not in any major pain.

"You're a hobgoblin, not a doctor, Spock. I'm getting him out of here for a final check up. You, don't try to be funny with me." McCoy waggled his finger menacingly at the Vulcan seated innocently at the table as he hauled Jim up, though he seemed quite well enough to do so on his own. Either way, he began exiting towards the doorway.

"Hey, you can save this game of chess, okay? We can finish playing when I get back. "Jim displayed one of those genuine Jim Kirk smiles, which were rare and very earnest, and increased exponentially when the Vulcan nodded back at him.

"C'mon, Jim."

 

\- - - -

 

**3\. Jamming**

Following the "incident", as the medical crew called it, on Cardisan IV, involving Jim eating three fruits that were supposedly guavas that ended up being specially grown agricultural wonders made purely from synthetic material that Jim was, coincidentally, highly allergic too, they had consulted and elected the captain required another annual allergy check up. Last time they had had one it revealed three new allergies, one of them being to a creature found only on Utica II that appeared shockingly similar to a rabbit and was both a house pet and a delicacy, another being a certain type of mixture of plants used as a common medicine found on many Orion planets, and a type of bread that was similar to that of an ancient Terran civilization thousands of years ago. McCoy kept a special record of all of Jim Kirk's allergies, stored in a hidden dresser on his desk. The list was three pages long when printed out from the PADD and continued to be added on each annual check up. McCoy prided himself in that list.

However, Jim himself was not as eager to add to the list. He was horribly embarrassed on the concept of his multitude of allergies, which was a shame, considering the fact that Jim Kirk was hardly embarrassed about anything, and allergies were a large part of his life. Jim also detested getting into Sickbay for anything at all, really, and he was certainly less than eager to drag his sorry self into the doctor's office and submit himself to hours of testing, blood sampling and gene tracking. He dubbed it a waste of time. McCoy dubbed it as fun.

It was now not a surprise for the CMO to find himself scurrying throughout the halls to find any say crewman, specifically Jim Kirk. It was a common opinion that Sickbay was the equivalent of hell on a starship, which may have been true for everyone else, but McCoy found his medical bay a comforting place. His office was nestled towards the beginning of the long hallway, doors all made of glass for easy peering through. Directly past his own room was the long-term medical patient room, the exact one wherein Jim had finally come to his senses with Spock looming over him. Following this was the surgery rooms, of which there were five, and later on extra rooms were located. Medical bay was held in a special place within McCoy's heart, despite the bad reputation it obtained from all other divisions. 

McCoy went directly to the captain's quarters, fully aware that that was where Jim retreated to following his gamma shift on the bridge, and, upon knocking, received no answer. As of lately, he had not used his override in over two months, finding it unnecessary rather than just domestically knocking, though he was certainly getting no response. He knocked again, as politely as he could manage, and at last resorted to entering the CMO's override to allow entry to his room.

McCoy's foot was greeted by coming into contact with an oversized, outdated stereo, resting directly at the entrance. The cord led up into a guitar, which was being held by Jim Kirk, who was simultaneously singing into the microphone, which was hooked to a separate stereo. The most shocking part of the set up was situated behind the captain, seated pleasantly on one of the chairs from Jim's dining table-turned-chess-area was Spock, some sort of lyre in his hands and strumming softly. He did not straighten his back when the doctor entered, only looked up.

"Hey, Bones," Jim said, interrupting the stanza he was singing from some old earth song. "What is it?" He lacked all urgency in his voice as he unraveled the guitar from around his neck and leaned it against his unmade bed.

"Allergy check up. It'll be quick, if you cooperate." McCoy replied grumpily, though he kept his gaze on the strange instrument in Spock's hand. "What are you playing?"

"A tradition Vulcan lyre, doctor," Spock replied immediately. "Admittedly, they are much harder to locate following the destruction of my planet, however many crafters survived and continue to create them today, however at a raised price." He didn't even flinch at his own mention of Vulcan's destruction, which was surprising to both other men. They ignored it. 

"Fascinating," McCoy mocked, then appeared more honest after Spock raised an eyebrow at his attempt at a joke. "You should play that little piece on karaoke night. It's scheduled for next Thursday after gamma shift."

"It would be distasteful to waste time performing for intoxicated crew members when one can be continuing work in the labs."

"Don't be such a stickler, Spock," McCoy said, and lightly slapped the Vulcan on the shoulder. He had seen Jim do such actions before, and he showed little discomfort with it - however, when the doctor patted him, he was met with a solid and uptight muscle that was clearly uncomfortable with the action. Odd.

"I do not understand what you are implying, doctor."

"Stop bickering for a minute." Jim interjected, leading his way towards the door by gingerly stepping over the stereo. "C'mon, Bones, let's go."

"Coming, coming."

"Hey, Spock, I'll be back in a few hours, okay? Try to keep the fort up without me." He flashed a grin, and Spock flashed one of his half smiles, and McCoy dragged Jim out of the room.

 

\- - - -

**4\. Drinking**

The Vulcan first officer of the Starship Enterprise, McCoy had learned throughout the course of the five year mission, was almost as bad as coming in for his appointments as his captain was. This was considered an astounding feat, considering that the doctor can distinctly remember Jim hiding in the closet of a recreation room for three straight hours in an attempt to keep himself out of Sickbay. The Vulcan avoided medical bay as if it were the plague, and the only reason McCoy can recall him voluntarily entering the room was following Jim's death and resurrection; at that time, he would even be reluctant to leave Jim's bedside. Spock's hatred for Sickbay otherwise was most likely sprung from his childhood years, and overall his physiology and heritage. McCoy noted his self consciousness whenever Doctor M'Benga, who had spent a large portion of his life studying on Vulcan and learning the inhabitants' anatomy, commented on the peculiar fusion of human and Vulcanoid characteristics. Half Vulcans, prior to Spock's birth, had been entirely unheard of; the combination of genes had been attempted, yet mothers commonly died during birth or the child did not make it and the mothers did not wish to attempt again. Lady Amanda struggled immensely, records read wherein McCoy had been studying Spock, yet somehow the child had survived, becoming the first half Vulcan, half human to make it past birth. His lack of self confidence kept him running from checkups, coming up with purely illogical excuses while still managing to not tell any falsehoods.

McCoy, overall, found it distasteful of the Vulcan to continue his childish acts, though did not find it surprising. He had already searched throughout the science labs, which was the most obvious place for the Vulcan to be hiding, yet was left with an abandoned experiment as his desk and a shrug from a lieutenant who had been working near the first officer. Subsequently he visited the bridge, since he was not aware whether the XO had beta shift that day or not; Nyota informed him that neither the captain nor the first officer were due on the bridge until gamma. Seeing as the Vulcan was a fairly introverted and disclosed person, McCoy went en route for Spock's quarters.

When ringing the doorbell politely resulted in no response, the CMO began knocking on the door, and also yelling the Vulcan's name. These attempts were fruitless, seeing as the walls were completely soundproof and even if he could be heard, he would've been ignored. McCoy assumed that Spock was undergoing one of his private meditations; he claimed there were the Vulcan substitute for sleep, allowing time for the person to search through their head and enter a state of peacefulness that blocked out all other noises. 

McCoy, on a normal occasion, would've left Spock be and went onto the next patient. However, Spock had been hiding out for the past four days, and McCoy had completed the other four hundred plus crewmen's checkups. He was perfectly willing to drag that Vulcan out by his pointed ear and tie him up to a chair just to finish these check ups. This was his reasoning for entering the override code and, abruptly, stepping in.

He had, admittedly, never entered Spock's quarters, nor did he ever need to, yet it was stunning. Heat flooded from the room immediately, due to Vulcan's desert biome and Spock's physiology built for warmer temperatures. Red cloths were draped along the walls gracefully, covering a large expanse of the room. Artifacts were tucked into separate shelving units, some from planets visited on their mission, others from earth, a few remaining ones from Vulcan before the planet collapsed. Flowers in vases and lyres and rocks decorated the room, and on a bedside table sat a holo, one of a young woman with deep brown eyes and dark hair. Lady Amanda, McCoy thought, recognizing her face, subtracted a decade or two. She was stunning and, admittedly, brilliant; she had assisted in the creation of the universal translator, and her work in communications had assisted Starfleet in billions of ways. Not only the 'Fleet, but her son, was crushed at her death.

Spock, however, did not occupy his room; in fact, by the looks of it, no one had occupied the room in months. The bed was pristinely made, the floor lacked a single piece of clothing, and a stack of PADDs were lined up on the desk. The only way McCoy could even tell that Spock had ever been in the room was the lack of dust in a single space.Vulcans were, overall, thorough.

McCoy was then brilliantly hit with the stupendous idea that his captain quite possibly might be aware of where his first officer was. They were, McCoy could confirm, close friends; a captain and his first officer have to be remarkably close to make an efficient command team, and the 'Fleet bragged them as the best pair to ever be known. In addition, they spent a fair amount of time while off duty with one another as well. He recalled walking in on them playing music together; if that did not display enough of a personal relationship, then McCoy wasn't sure what did. 

Thanking the set up of the ship and the fact that the captain and first officer's quarters were connected by a restroom that they shared, the doctor entered the lavatory and heard a distinct thumping sound in the captain's room. Entering, he found the source of the commotion was Jim himself, gripping tightly onto a bottle of whiskey and being pulled up by McCoy's target. The doctor was about to make a comment about a Vulcan hands and what M'Benga had told him about what they did to a Vulcan's libido, yet he bit his tongue and rather commented on the absurdity of the situation.

"What the hell is going on?"

Jim made an undignified grumble as a response, which thus relied on Spock to reply to the question. "The captain is inebriated."

"Thanks for the explanation, Spock," replied McCoy in the most sarcastic tone of voice he could manage. He pulled Jim up, hoisting him on the doctor's shoulder, while Spock also threw Jim's arm around his own torso. "Why was he getting drunk during beta shift?"

"I am not aware, doctor, though the cause of most human pranks do escape me." 

Jim grumbled a bit, most likely in childish pain or distant complaints, and practically collapsed onto the floor again. "Jesus christ," McCoy muttered, bending down and attempting to throw the clumsy captain over his shoulder. He failed. "I wasn't even here to deal with him. You - " he pointed at Spock, " - are the problem. You're almost as bad as him. We're going to Sickbay."

"Just a moment, doctor," Spock replied, and easily scooped the captain from McCoy's half-grasp. He gingerly placed Jim on his expectedly unmade bed, ensuring the blond's head settled on the single pillow. With peculiar grace, he stripped the captain of his boots and socks in quick time, pulling the blanket that was halfway falling off of the cot atop of Jim's legs and torso comfortably. McCoy could only watch, standing at the doorway with confused awe of this first officer's actions. Spock brushed Jim's tousled bangs from his forehead vigilantly, looking down at his superior officer with a sort of affection, McCoy could only say.

"Spock?" the doctor said, yet it sounded more of a squeak.

"Yes, doctor?"

"We've gotta go," 

"Of course, doctor." Spock breezed past McCoy, completely disregarding his prior actions just a moment earlier with cool standoffishness, his mouth formed into a solid line and an aura of isolation emanating from him. The doctor considered questioning him, yet his abrupt exit implied that he had no desire to discuss his emotions or intentions towards their captain. Therefore, appropriately, he made no comment and followed the Vulcan, casting a final glance towards Jim, who had no doubt passed out and was peacefully drifting away. McCoy smiled.

 

\- - - -

**5\. Cuddling**

McCoy was not a tortured man. He lived an average life in Georgia with his average family, in which he went on to get an average job and live on, doing things in his content averageness. He didn't care to ponder on all the choices he'd made in his past, and it suited him; he preferred living in the present, since his past had no particularly memorable moments. He was not like Jim Kirk, however. Jim Kirk had a colorful past, starting on the day of his birth and also the day his father died, which lead on to a completely un-average life full of exciting twists and turns. McCoy did not envy Jim, per se, but he would much rather read a biography on Jim Kirk rather than one written about Leonard McCoy. Jim and him had talked endlessly while at the academy, too many drunk nights together in their dormitory to count, talking about secrets and wonderings and any question that could come into either of their minds. Jim told him about Tarsus IV, about being tortured as a teen, about being abused by his stepfather and abandoned by his blood family, about always being afraid of what's right around the corner. McCoy listened and comforted as best as a drunk man could do, patted his back appropriately and dared not to ask any extra questions. It was a buddy system of sorts, as they'd support each other vigorously through thick and thin, and it proved effective.

They hadn't had too many encounters with unnecessarily hostile Klingons in the two out of the five years of their mission, yet it wasn't until halfway through the second year did the crew, and the captain, get truly hit. An away team had beamed down onto a planet that was desired within the Federation due to their astounding engineering skills in both weaponry and transportation, yet just when Jim had put on his diplomacy act and prepared himself to play goody-two-shoes, an advanced Klingon vessel, obviously made from the help of the planet's inhabitants, appeared and began outright firing. Hundreds of innocent citizens, over fifty crewmen, and a mere twenty Klingons died that day, and Jim was not one of them. McCoy pondered whether, to Jim, this was better or worse; living with his guilt, or dying with his pride. The doctor had done his best to heal the fatally injured, yet he found himself unprepared to deal with the planet's inhabitants' anatomy, doing his very best yet not succeeding overall. He managed to save eleven crewmen on board, yet others were not so lucky. 

McCoy knew Jim well enough to know how his captain spent his days after loosing a dozen or so crewmen. Kirk was an empathetic type, and he no doubt personally knew the names and positions of all the crew members lost during the firing. He would be overcome with grief, become otherworldly intoxicated, and then request to not exit his quarters for four days. Jim had an odd way of mourning. but he was also the sole person to send out the reports to all the families of the dead crew members. He always typed them, because he couldn't stand to video them and see their faces.

McCoy was armed with a bottle of scotch that he'd borrowed from Scotty and good listening ears. Jim was only able to talk for extended periods of time after he'd loose a crewman, even if it was only one man who had sacrificed himself for another, and all he needed in that time was someone to listen. Therefore, McCoy headed to his quarters, prepared for such.

He knew that Jim would most likely be curled on fetal position on his bed, unwilling to talk to anyone or make any interactions with anything. Therefore, considering all the facts, he wouldn't be exactly ecstatic about McCoy entering the room; a sneaky entrance seemed most logical (dare he say that word) and thus required his override code. He would be there all night, as he had been for the past twenty eight times (and his alcohol stock was running low because of it), even though he himself was thoroughly exhausted after numerous surgeries in a single day.

When the doors opened, there were two figures twisted within one another, one collapsing in the others arms for dear life, and the other one taller and stoic. Jim's back was towards McCoy, while the doctor could see Spock's face clearly. The Vulcan had a firm hand resting on the flat of Jim's back, and the captain was leaning heavily against his companion. Spock was now looking at McCoy, his face guilty as if he had been caught taking a cookie and the doctor was his mother. However, he did not disentangle himself, and simply eyed the man parallel.

McCoy had seen Spock and Jim have countless conversations solely with their eyes, just by simple pupil movements conveying some sort of meaningful message. Spock looked at the doctor, eyes that seemed questioning, worried, caring towards the man in his arms. He looked self conscious and even afraid, and McCoy realized what they said about those brown eyes were true; that they were so human. The doctor looked at the Vulcan again, and returned a solid nod. It was affirming, ensuring, agreeing. He placed the bottle on the nearest table as quietly as he could manage, though there was a quiet _cling._

"What was that?" Jim mumbled from his spot tucked into the meeting point of Spock's shoulder and neck.

McCoy crept backwards, slowly into the sensor's range, and took one final glance at the two, fitting together like puzzle pieces, so perfect against one another.

"Nothing, captain."

 

\- - - - 

**\+ 1**

****Parties on the Starship Enterprise were uncommon. This fact is considered ironic, due to the fact that their captain is James T. Kirk, professional partier, but also obvious due to the fact that their first officer is Spock, professional party pooper. Christmas, however, was unbeatably the most well known holiday for partying, and thus even Spock could not deny hosting a gathering on the eve. Spock still frowned every time he passed by a bit of decoration and whenever someone brought it up, but McCoy didn't give two shits because Christmas was the best holiday and he was not getting deprived of it, even if he was in the middle of space in a hunk of metal. It was McCoy himself who urged to have a party, and even put himself on Director of Party Decorations, with Pavel Chekov as his Executive Producer of Party Decorations.

It may have been the spirit going to McCoy's head, or maybe the three eggnogs with ratios of egg to alcohol which didn't even make the drink eggnog anymore, but he was riding on some sort of cloud of happiness. This left most other crewmen basking in the doctor's happiness, since they'd only ever seen Leonard McCoy actually smile before in the Christmas parties in the two prior years, but now he was all grins and laughs and happy slaps on the back. It was fun and put him in a daze, but when karaoke began and Jim wasn't there to announce it, he realized that his captain was completely lacking from the festivities. 

Jim had never liked Christmas, even since the academy. McCoy never got a reason why, yet he can distinctly recall his roommate scowling when he put up tinsel and a wreath in their room, and he would always groan whenever the cadet would put on any twenty first century film using a gem he had found - a VHS player. McCoy was ecstatic, while Jim was discontent and always said that he would never voluntarily celebrate Christmas if he had the chance. McCoy called him a stickler.

Despite the hazy air filling the room and the fact that Sulu and Chekov were standing on stage to perform a song from the twentieth century film, _High School Musical,_ and were about to duet the love song, McCoy pulled himself out of the room and away from his eggnog, unfortunately, to find his captain. Usually the positions were switched; McCoy was the one who didn't desire to attend some party, and he was hiding in his room, while Jim was the one laughing and enjoying the festivities and trying to get his friend to join in. It was a nice change.

The turbo lift, once he had stumbled into it, brought him to the correct floor and near Jim's bedroom. McCoy had forgotten his comm in his bedroom, and waltzing in and forcing Jim to the party sounded like a brilliantly fun idea in his drunken stupor. 

He wasn't sure how he entered the override code while half intoxicated and slurring his words, but somehow he completed the code and was about to barge in when he stopped himself.

On Jim's obviously unmade bed were two figures, though they were so close that they fused together to become one. The one on top was Spock, lacking his science blues and black undershirt, his ass hanging in the air over top his captain. Jim was underneath, coincidentally also lacking the top half of his clothing, and he was viciously running his one hand through the slick black hair and tousling the bowl cut. His other hand was being held down by the Vulcan, his middle and index finger extended while his partner mimicked the action and forced his own hand atop the other's. Spock was preoccupied with pressing open mouthed kisses onto his captain's neck and chest, and quite loudly, McCoy noted. 

"Holy shit?" was the first thing McCoy said, to which both of the people on the bed gazed in horror. 

"Bones?" Jim squeaked, pushing the Vulcan off of him and opening those blue eyes outstandingly wide.

"Holy shit," McCoy repeated, more as an explanation rather than a question. "I fucking knew it," Jim and Spock discontinued gaping at the doctor and began gaping at one another. "I knew you were fucking!" 

"What?" Jim stood slowly. "No, no, Bones, we haven't done this before, don't tell the crew, alright? Things are still being sorted out - "

"I fucking knew it!" McCoy yelled, running from the room. "Sulu owes me fifty credits!"

 


End file.
